You Belong with Me
by warrior of the nile
Summary: No one would be surprised to learn that Sherlock is possessive, especially in a relationship. Especially with John. It only gets worse when you combine the two. So no, no surprise there. Not that John is complaining mind you. He is just getting tired of all the love bites. So, as always, there is a compromise to be had. John can't say he minds this one much at all.


It would surprise absolutely no one to learn that Sherlock Holmes is rather possessive in a relationship. Not at all. In fact, they might wonder why John felt the need to state such an obvious fact to begin with. It would be like announcing that the sky is blue. Sure, you can, but there is no real point. Everyone else has already seen it.

Hell, he was like this even before he and John officially started dating. It's likely one of the – many – reasons everyone assumed they were together. John was _his_ friend, _his_ flatmate, _his_ colleague. His. He was like a child, showing off his prized toy. Everyone else was allowed to look at it, but not touch. Not play with. He even got stroppy when John went out for drinks with Greg. He _liked_ Greg. And he knew he had no intentions on John.

But because he wasn't right beside Sherlock, entertaining him, he threw a fit. Either he would sulk the entire time or text John constantly until he came home. One time, he even set the flat on fire. Take it, it was a small fire, but still. John had been rather upset about that one.

It only got worse after they started dating. It was now _his_ boyfriend and _his_ partner all the time. A hand on the small of his back. An arm around his waist. For someone who seems so aloof normally, he liked to keep in contact with John most of the time. Almost as if reassuring himself that John was still there. That he hadn't left Sherlock yet. And heaven help the woman who decided to flirt with him. That was always a true disaster.

And the love bites. Oh god, the love bites the git liked to give him. Dark and purple and noticeable. He couldn't do it where John could hide them. Oh no. He had do it high on his neck, where he had no way to cover them up. He looked like a bloody teenager. Or the unfortunate victim of a hungry vampire. He started to have to buy quite a bit of cover up to deal with it all.

Some people might wonder why John stays when he has to put up with all of this. And that isn't even counting Sherlock's other... unique traits. At least he has never repeated the head in the refrigerator. Then again, might? Most people do wonder why John is still with Sherlock after all this time. Wonders how he can stand it – and him.

Well the fact that he is head over heels for the git might have something to do with it. And they will never see him the way John sees him. Sure he is possessive, but he is also caring as well. Of course that caring comes in Sherlock's own unique way, but John wouldn't expect anything less. It is the little things that do it.

Such as – Sherlock doesn't eat when he is on a case. He didn't before and he certainly didn't change that when they got together. But he will stop to make sure that John is fed. Many times they have stopped at a restaurant, only for Sherlock to talk or think the entire time. But John has food. Sure sometimes he may not have much time, but he has it. And sometimes he could even convince Sherlock to have a bite or two.

They see the possessive touch in public. But they don't see the loving touches back at the flat. The slow, soft kisses. The long, comforting hugs. There always seems to be a barrier around Sherlock. Something to warn people off against touching him. But that has never really applied to John. Even from the start, Sherlock was bad at keeping his distance. Almost as if he was drawn to John.

Now that he is allowed, he luxuries in the way he touches John. A head on his lap or his shoulder on the couch. Draping himself over John's back when he is standing. Using him as a pillow in bed. It is endless. It is almost as if he is trying to make up for all the other contact he so religiously avoids. John – and only John – is allowed to touch him. Everyone else is to stay away.

He also gives _the best_ massages that John has ever had. If there has been a long, drawn out case or a stressful day at work, Sherlock is more than happy to do it to 'put John in a more agreeable mood'. And isn't that the kettle calling the pot black? As if there is anyone else that can compete with Sherlock's moods. Still John isn't complaining.

Just like everything else, this is something Sherlock doesn't do by half. He orders John to strip down to his pants and lay down on those soft, fluffy towels of his. Then he opens his bottle of scented oil and gets to work. And oh does he. His hands are truly a work of art. By the end of it, John is a puddle of goo on the floor. Every single time. It is an ego boost that Sherlock most certainly doesn't need. But it is wonderful.

And really, it's not as if John doesn't understand the possessiveness as well. He often has the urge to show the world that the brilliant arse is his. That he – John Watson – is the lucky bastard to call Sherlock Holmes his partner. It's a heady feeling indeed. Except when he is driving John up a wall. Then he's the idiot who fell in love with another idiot. A genius one to be sure, but still. In any case, John understands. That's why he gave Sherlock his dog tags to wear. He had never really put much stock into them before, but now something curls in pleasure in him whenever he sees Sherlock wearing them.

The love bites are getting a bit ridiculous though.

So, as with anything else John does that involves Sherlock, he tries to find something that will make them both happy. And he has just the right idea for it too. Of course Sherlock realizes what that is right away. _Of course_ he does. What John doesn't expect is just how enthusiastic he would be about the idea. He absolutely loves it. Especially when he has expressed his opinion on the practice before.

"Please John, what I object to is the couple who have been together two months getting each other's names tattooed on their bodies." Sherlock says one day from where he is laying on the couch. His eyes are close and he hasn't moved in three hours. John had honestly thought he had fallen asleep. "Their relationship is doomed from the start and that merely speeds up the process. Plus it shows a lack of creativity. Names, really?" He snorts in derision.

John rolls his eyes, looking over from the desk at him with a slight smile. He isn't even going to bother asking just how Sherlock knew what he was looking up. "It's a good thing I wasn't planning on having your name inked then, isn't it?"

"Don't be dull," Sherlock says, still not moving, "You are capable of some originality unlike the rest of the masses. They insist on following each other like sheep."

"Ta. That makes me feel so special," John says dryly.

A smile flits across Sherlock's face. "You should."

John snorts at that. Oh yes, what a right honor not to be a complete idiot like everyone else. He's only mostly one. He goes back to his research. As both a doctor and a soldier, he knows a fair bit about tattoos. He never felt the need to get one himself, but some of his mates did. So he doesn't need much information about that. What he does need is a design. Something unique as Sherlock is, that represents him. Something subtle as well.

Names are popular, but Sherlock is right. There's not always much creativity put into them. Nor the amount of grace he wants. If he is going to get a tattoo for Sherlock, it needs to be something different. The man himself never fits in with the crowd, so why should his ink? Thus John is looking at random images, gathering his thoughts.

"I'm surprised you don't want 'property of Sherlock Holmes' on my forehead," John says lightly, just to get a rise out of him. Then again, maybe he shouldn't be giving him ideas.

But Sherlock just snorts in disgust. "Please John, don't be absurd. If nothing else, it is far too much of an identifying trait."

"And a tattoo itself isn't?"

"Well of course it is," Sherlock sighs, "but I already know you do not want something big. Nor do you want it instantly obvious, although possibly visible if you wish it so. I am also aware of what kind of cover up can temporarily hide one."

Ah yes, of course. What had John been thinking?

"I will be designing it once you solidify your idea," Sherlock continues.

As if that wasn't already horribly obvious. John had assumed as such. Because Sherlock is a surprisingly good artist. One of those hidden talents. He never necessarily hid it, but it took John some time to realize it. Sherlock has a sketchbook full of artwork – some pencil, some pen and some colored. It all depended on what he feels like drawing that day. Whatever it is, it is always beautiful.

Besides, even if he wasn't, it would fit right in with what John is trying to accomplish. Sherlock's design on John's skin. That would appeal nicely to him.

"Let me guess, you already have an artist in mind who owes you a favor," John says.

"Hmm, yes," Sherlock hums in agreement.

He's not surprised by that either. Some days it seems as if half of London owes Sherlock a favor for one thing or another. John swears he does it on purpose. Especially restaurants. For all that Sherlock doesn't eat half the time, he always has someone who is willing to feed him. Likely so he doesn't have to do it himself. Because he is a lazy sod like that. Although John can definitely see the benefit of it since he is now automatically included in it as well. It is convenient when he needs something quick.

Not that Sherlock would ever admit to it, if it is true. He has this infuriating way of smiling innocently whenever John accuses him of it. As if anyone would really believe him. Sherlock, innocent? Yeah no. So John says nothing and keeps looking.

Over the next week, he continues to look and then to sketch the idea. He knows it doesn't have to be perfect. Knows that Sherlock will instantly improve it once he gets a hold of it. But John still wants it to be good. And part of him is worried that it is a little too corny. That Sherlock will laugh at it, once he sees it, or hate it.

As it turns out, he has nothing to worry about. He wakes up one morning to find that Sherlock has already gone. That's hardly unusual. Sherlock likes joining John in bed, but he doesn't always sleep much. Some nights he doesn't sleep at all. He just lays there, thinking about whatever it is he thinks about, with John in his arms. He doesn't always wait for John to wake up either before leaving.

So he wanders out of their room to find Sherlock sitting on the floor. His sketchbook is in his lap and John's drawings are spread across the floor in front of him. Before John can say anything, he gets up and thoroughly snogs him.

John gasps for air once they are done. "Good morning to you too," he murmurs, leaning against his strong chest. Just because Sherlock looks lanky doesn't mean there aren't some gorgeous muscles on him.

"John Watson, you brilliant man," Sherlock says before pulling John into another through snog.

John reaches up to run a hand through soft curls. His other hand pulls him closer, bringing their bodies closer together. He rests it on the swell of Sherlock's arse. Because it is a magnificent arse. The kiss tastes like chocolate so he knows Mrs Hudson has already been up to drop something off.

Sherlock pulls away and pushes his shirt collar down so that he can suck on his favorite spot – right where John's shoulder and neck meet. He is terribly sensitive there and Sherlock knows it. He loves it. That is always his go to spot on John's neck.

"Christ Sherlock," John gasps, tightening his hold. He is _far_ too good at this. At his age, John shouldn't have his knees going weak at something so simple. Yet he does.

Sherlock only pulls away when there is sure to be a bruise. He beams brightly at John.

John is helpless against that smile. "I take it you like it then?"

"Of course I do, it's lovely," Sherlock says before bending down and picking up his book. "Here." He hands it to John.

Looking at it, John can see that he was right. Sherlock has already improved it. The bee is much more realistic than he could ever do. Although there is still an edge of cartoon to it that surprises John. He would have thought Sherlock would have gone as realistical as possible. He grins when he looks at the one wing and sees 221 still running along the one side of it.

Overall it is a subtle thing. At first John had wondered if he should do something with their address at all. But the flat is as much a part of them as each other are. Home is Sherlock of course. But home is also here, with the skull and the experiments and Mrs Hudson's mothering. So it works. Plus he really wanted to do something with a bee.

"You remembered," Sherlock says warmly, draping himself over John.

He huffs. "Of course I did. You aren't the only one who likes memorizing facts about their partner." Not as much as Sherlock of course because Sherlock wants to know _everything_. And most of it he knows without John having to tell him. But it is hard to forget Sherlock's excitement when one of their cases involved a bee farm.

He had lit up, talking too fast and gesturing too much for anyone to follow. Practically bouncing along, he had given an in depth lesson on raising bees. Far too detailed and not necessary in the least, but John hadn't complained. He loves seeing Sherlock like that. He's like the sun, drawing him into his warmth. Yes sometimes he gets burnt, but it is worth it every time.

So yes, John is well aware of just how much Sherlock likes bees. It seems like a perfect thing to include to represent him. Plus everything else was too bulky or just didn't seem right. His other ideas included something vaguely chemistry-y or detective-y or something. None of them felt right though. John is glad he likes it so well.

Thus is how, within the week, John is sporting some new ink. It turns out beautifully of course. It sits on the opposite side of Sherlock's favorite spot on his neck. They had considered his favorite spot, but then decided against it. Not only would he have to leave it alone while it heals, it would fade the ink faster, to have it in constant contact with Sherlock's mouth like that.

John likes it. It isn't in an obvious place, but it could still be seen. If he is wearing a collar, it will peak out of it. And Sherlock is ecstatic over it. Of course he insists on being the one to take care of it. However much he may disregard his own transport, he unfailingly cleans and moisturizes the tattoo every morning and every night. He even uses this cream that, while a bit oily seeming, smells like mango's and does wonders for any itching or peeling he may have.

He is content – for now. John knows that this won't last. What use is having a mark if you can't show it off? He just hopes that whatever Sherlock decides to do, it's nothing _too_ ridiculous. Then again, John would be lying if he said there wasn't a part of him that doesn't want to show it off as well. He is rather proud of it after all.

The opportunity comes sooner than he expected. Just after it healed actually. Right after. The next day in fact, the impatient git. They are at the Yard talking to Greg and some of the other officers when Sherlock 'accidentally' spills coffee all over his jumper. The others jump at that, but John gives him a knowing look as he takes it off. At least it wasn't as dramatic as it could have been. He was half afraid Sherlock was going to push him into the Thames to make him strip.

"Is that a tattoo?" Anderson asks almost immediately afterwards.

John would like to give him credit for being observant, but he is staring right at it from where he is standing. Not much skill needed there. "Yeah," he agrees easily.

Greg moves to see it. "Nice ink mate. New yeah?"

Some of the others crowd around to get a good look at it, complimenting him as they do.

"Yeah, some weeks ago." He smiles and fights the urge to preen. That is Sherlock's job and he's doing a bloody fantastic job of it already. No need to encourage him.

"Right around the time you stopped looking like a vampire's favorite snack then?" Greg winks.

John rolls his eyes, but is interrupted before he can say anything.

"You let the Freak mark you? Permanently?" Donovan asks incredulously.

Suddenly John feels very tired and very angry. "Yes I got a tattoo for my partner. Problem? Yes? Well breaking news, I don't care. I am fine with the ink, I like it, I designed it myself, no I wasn't bullied into it. Done? No? Still don't care. My body, my choice. Come on Sherlock, let's go home. Paperwork can wait until later." He marches out of the room.

They don't even make it to the exit before Sherlock is pulling him into an insistent, firm snog.

John gasps at the suddenness of it. He shouldn't be surprised though. "Home first," he says.

Fortunately Sherlock listens to him this time because John wouldn't have been held accountable for what happened next if he didn't. And some things are better left to the comfort of their own flat after all.

Sherlock is able to hail a cab right away and both of them slide in. "221 Baker Street," he says with a wicked grin.

Oh yes, what happens next is much better left at home.


End file.
